Claiming the Night
by Clare Mansfield
Summary: Months have passed since Christine has left her ordeal at the Opera Populaire behind...yet her mind is plagued with memories...and her dreams are full of thoughts of a man she tried so hard not to love...New chapter up!
1. Chapter 1

Something cold and dark stretched itself across the hallway as Christine waited for the lamps to be lit. It was harder now than she had anticipated, her gaze drawn to the flame which wavered as the glass shade was put back in place. Months had past since she had left; left behind the horror which had haunted her for so long…yet now, in the warmth and comfort of Raoul's home she felt lost…more lost than she had ever felt in the winding backstage passages at the Opera Populaire. She was weak; she knew this and cursed herself for being so. She had always needed someone stronger than herself to guide her, to take her father's place and now it was Raoul that led her from the darkness of her memories…and out into the light.

And he loved her, more than he did when they were both children, when neither of them knew what love truly was. She loved him too; the tenderness and understanding he showed her was unlike any she had ever known. He never once asked her about what had happened; accepting that it was something that he himself was not a part of. He didn't push her to set a date for their wedding, content with her company and their engagement alone. He seemed to have infinite patience she thought to herself, as she pulled back the bed clothes and dimmed the light.

But it was now, when all else was silent and the moonlight filtered through the drapes, that he would come to her. She would submit to the endless procession of images that plagued her mind. He was there with her once more, above her and around her, consuming yet eluding her; as his whispered words would quiet her mind but enrage her soul. Thoughts wandered back to a gesture or a glance; and she would question his motives and doubt her own mind. Without him beside her she was not quite herself. Her heart would unravel as she tossed in the night, fearing yet longing to hear him…just once.

It was still dark outside when Christine started awake, the pale grey shades of morning creeping across the floor. She had been sweating; her hair was strewn across her face, and for the briefest of moments she thought he was there in the room, towering over the bed and gathering her into his arms.

"Christine?" It was Raoul…only Raoul who cradled her as she panted. "You were calling out in your sleep."

As Christine went to speak, she found her throat was hoarse, and she realised that she had indeed been calling out…and it was this which had woken her. As she relaxed in Raoul's arms as he spoke and soothed her, the traces of her dream crawled back to her. She had been pulled away, against her will from a place that she knew she loved. Strong arms were pulling her back, yet her soul was willing her to stay. She had been crying in her dream, as she was forced into the boat…plucked from the night and thrust into day. And she knew, although she could not remember, that she had been calling for him…her angel.

"I was dreaming…"Christine trailed off, seeing the look of anguish in Raoul's face. She raised one hand to his shoulder, and squeezed it reassuringly before continuing, "They are dreams…Nothing more."

What you heard was a dream and nothing more…

Raoul's own words echoed in her own, only hers were filled with doubt. He smiled, wearily but sympathetic. He guided her head to the pillow, and on standing to leave her he paused. Despite the darkness he could see the love in her eyes and this reassured him…she had, after all, chosen him…saved him. And now, in turn, he could save her from these memories that tortured her. Although some insatiable voice in the back of his mind, that he tried so hard to quiet but failed to do so, kept repeating her words over and over;

And I heard as I never heard before…

She had seemed so certain when she had spoken of her angel of music. So sure that he had inspired her; had opened her eyes to a world that only they together could understand, through music…his music. As he watched her now close her eyes, and wander once more to the realms of sleep, he could hardly remember a time when the Phantom hadn't been there, behind everything, conducting them all. Yet now she was free, they were both free. He had made her happy once and he would do so again. He would not loose Christine to a ghost.

The next day was hot; the sun sent waves of warmth across Christine's face as she walked, arm in arm with Raoul, through the streets of Paris. All thoughts of the night's restlessness were pushed aside as they laughed and talked of times that had past…and times to come.

Christine found it hard to imagine what she would have done without Raoul. He guided her and cared for her. He made sure that she didn't want for anything; in truth she couldn't be more spoilt. I don't deserve this, she would think to herself as shop assistants showed her fabrics of every shade; I don't deserve this at all.

He left her at midday to make arrangements for their trip to the country; where Christine was to be presented to Raoul's parents as his future wife. He kissed her just once on the forehead, before telling her,

"I shall leave the carriage with you. My man will see to it that you have everything you need."

But Christine was not used to being waited upon. It made her feel uncomfortable to give commands as Raoul did. She didn't like to think of what the servants might think of her, as they followed her around to do her bidding.

"Would you go back?" Christine requested, her awkwardness reflected in her tone. "I would like to walk for a while."

She felt more comfortable like this, head held high in the glorious sunshine. She tired of endless conversation…even with Raoul…and she cherished these moments she had to herself, to think and to wander alone. For here she was anonymous; she stood out from no one else. It was here that she could pretend, for perhaps just a moment, that her life had been no different to anyone else's.

But Christine was different. She could feel this more strongly now that she was happy…now that she was free. And this feeling grew as she wandered, not definite in her destination…needing a mentor and guide.

On looking up Christine realised for the first time where she was. The ominous silhouette of the Opera Populaire loomed in front of her, scorched against the azure sky. Without thinking, without looking back she climbed the steps, entering the lobby through a break in the board.

Last time she had been here the great staircase had been full of people, guilt to the ceiling. Now everything was shrivelled and black. As Christine picked her way over the rubble, old women still salvaged what finery they could from the debris. As if not aware of what she was doing; as if she herself was detached from her body she walked down the corridors and to the Chapel where, as a child, she had found such peace.

The freezes on the wall were charred, the stain glass had fragmented into a thousand shards of colour…but the candles were still there. Cautiously Christine knelt, her dress fanning about her legs as she found a match concealed behind the frame. With one gloved finger she rubbed the dirt away to reveal her father's name and, as the candle cast an eerie glow about the room, she bowed her head in silent prayer.

"Christine you must have been dreaming. Stories like this can't come true…" Christine quietly sang to herself, her voice croaking; a sign that she hadn't practiced enough.

"You have a good voice Mademoiselle…" came a voice from the darkness. "But you would excel with the right teacher."

"I do not sing anymore," Christine replied her eyes fixed on the dancing candle.

"Have you forgotten your Angel?"


	2. Chapter 2

Christine was frozen by the voice that she had tried so hard to resist. She knew he was there, somewhere behind her, concealed in one of alcoves. Had he been there when she had come in and she hadn't seen him? Had he watched her all this time without speaking?

An involuntary shudder ran through her as he spoke again, "Why are you here Christine?"

Still she said nothing, unable to bring herself to move or respond. Instead she sat on the floor of the Chapel, feeling his presence engulf her as she heard him approach.

"Christine…Christine…" he sang, his voice hushed in the shadows. I must move, she told herself. I must leave this place at once.

"Wandering child…so lost so helpless…"

Unaware of what she was doing, Christine raised her head to look at him; the figure that was now crouched beside her. He was not as she remembered him in her dreams; he was not as she last saw him, disfigured and grotesque. He was once again that masked angel that had called to her so many times, from the dark.

"Angel, oh speak, what endless longings echo in this whisper," she sang, her voice small and shrill in this desolate place. She lowered her head in embarrassment, frightened that he would be disappointed with what her voice had become.

He reached out to tenderly caress her face, but the spell was broken when she flinched away, revealing her true fear of him.

"Still so frightened of me Christine?" he spoke, his words tainted with bitterness. He turned around to face her, his mask casting a shadow across his features. "After the repulsive face you have seen, you are still so scared of a mask?"

"I came to pray," Christine began, for the first time moving to stand. "I came to pray for my father."

"There must be a thousand Chapels in Paris…why this one? Do you believe in what you say? Is this the true reason you returned?"

"I cannot say for sure…I do not know the reason. I was walking and then I was here. I was too far gone to turn back…I had…" She stopped, meeting his eyes for the first time since he had made himself known to her. "…Past the point of no return."

It was now that the Phantom lost his temper, flying past Christine in his uncontrollable rage to push over the candelabra. It crashed to the floor, but not before the Phantom had caught hold of the candle that Christine had lit for her father. She watched in horror as he extinguished the flame with his thumb, pressing down on it hard and wincing as he did so.

"This pain…this pain…" he began, dropping the candle to the floor and extending his hand for her to see. "…Is nothing! I feel no pain. I am numb to the world because of you, Christine Daae…I feel nothing. You do not sing and I do not play…its over." He composed himself gradually, struggling for breath, seeing her fear yet struggling to remain indifferent to it. "Your presence tortures me…you _must _leave!"

Christine nodded and turned, only to stop in her steps. She twisted round, watching the Phantom gaze out of the glass longingly and into the dying light of day.

"Every night I think of mist…swirling mist upon a vast glassy lake…" She stopped; cutting off the tune as it still wavered in the air. His head snapped round to look at her, his eyes so full of anguish and despair. Choking back the tears that threatened to surface, Christine said, "I am sorry to have come back. I never will again."

She rushed out; out of the Chapel, out of the Opera Populaire: not wanting to see if the Phantom would follow. What a fool she had been to have gone back there, expecting that he would have left! After all, where else could he go? He would be forever there, caged by the things he had done in his past; just as she was a prisoner of her memories, doomed forever to remember what had passed between them, and to wonder what could have been.

Without thinking, she strode forward, crashing into a gentleman who was walking swiftly in the opposite direction.

"My god Christine, what are you doing here?" It was Raoul. She could feel herself tremble as she struggled to come up with a plausible excuse. It was hopeless; there was none. She would have to tell Raoul the truth.

"I was walking and something lead me here. It wasn't deliberate…I hadn't planned…my feet just took me here."

Raoul saw the fear and pain in her eyes and he knew that she had seen him. He knew that she had spoken to the Phantom.

He said nothing as they walked back, nor when they climbed the stairs to change for dinner. Whilst dressing Raoul cursed himself for leaving her, she still wasn't well. Ever since the night of the disaster Christine had been unwell; unable to sleep, becoming feverish without cause. He had once found her wandering outside in the gardens in the middle of a violent storm, without shoes or cloak. He had hid this from the servants, knowing what suspicions it would raise. Yet now, as he watched her slowly raise her fork and eat; her mind always somewhere else he realised that this wasn't normal…this could not continue.

"Little Lottie let her mind wander," he remarked, calling back the memory of there childhood together. She looked at him and smiled affectionately, her heart warming instantly with the sound of his pet name for her.

"Christine I've been thinking about our trip to the country. I think it will do you good to get away from Paris for a while, to take your mind off things."

Unable to bear the way that Raoul would not ask what he so desperately wanted to know, Christine cleared her throat before speaking, "I saw him today." She watched him lower his glass, the smile vanishing from his lips, before she continued, "I knew you would not ask me. I went to the Chapel to light a candle for my father, and he was there. He had been there…watching me."

Raoul's blood ran cold as he pictured the scene in his mind. He could hardly hear Christine as she earnestly continued, "He didn't hurt me Raoul. He didn't make me stay. He told me to leave him…I've destroyed him."

"Don't ever think like that. You _mustn't_ think like that, do you hear me Christine? He drove himself mad. He has orchestrated his own destruction. You were part of it, yes, but you were not the cause."

"I was the cause…I know it and it torments me. I cannot bare the thought that I caused pain in such a man. I cannot live with myself knowing that I betrayed him…deceived him."

"If you let yourself believe this you will become as damned as him!" Raoul said, rising to his feet and walking swiftly to her. He gathered her in his arms, letting her feel them surround and enfold her. "Let me save you from your solitude," he whispered his voice full of love.

She pulled away and kissed him softly, hoping to convince herself more than to reassure him. It seemed to work. He was happier when he left the room, leaving Christine alone to finish eating. But she could not eat food which had no taste, just as she couldn't admire the flowers that were placed around her rooms. Everything she touched or tasted seemed just a mirror mockery of what it truly was. She walked over to the pianoforte that had been one of Raoul's first gifts to her and pressed the keys wistfully; the notes seemed shallow and empty.

"But his voice filled my spirit with a strange, sweet sound…In the night there was music in my mind…" Her voice, for the first time in months rang out sweet and clear, penetrating the silence that had filled the room. An answer to her voice echoed, sharp and dark from deep inside her;

"Let your soul take you where you long to be…"

Christine closed her eyes and felt giddy as she realised that that is what had happened today. Her soul had guided her back to the Opera Populaire; back to the Phantom and his music. Her soul was driving her towards him, but her mind was holding her back. But where would her heart take her?


	3. Chapter 3

It was deep into the night when Christine awoke from another restless sleep. As her eyes became accustomed to the dark she could see that the moon was bright outside, sending shafts of silver through a chink in the curtains. Throwing back the bed sheets, Christine stood up, walking over to the window and throwing aside the drapes. Light flooded the room and outside the gardens were illuminated as if it were the day, the leaves of the trees dripping with silver light. Carefully, Christine unlatched the French doors and opened them, the warm night hair wafting through her curls that rippled down her back. Something about the night comforted her; she found solace in its darkness. Everything was so still and peaceful, everything was soft and beautiful. The sweet summer breeze calmed her and she smiled before retreating once again into her room, drawing the curtains behind her.

The room was once again shrouded in darkness and as Christine drew backwards she felt herself press against something that hadn't been there before. Without turning, without moving, without saying a word she knew that this was no figment of her imagination; she knew that this was no waking nightmare. Her heart leapt instantly into her throat as she felt the warmth of his breath against her exposed shoulder. She could fight this she told herself, feeling how close his lips were to her ear. She could call out to Raoul and he would come…

"Silently the senses abandon their defences…"he sung, almost whispered into her ear, feeling her slowly submit against him.

"Grasp it…"he sung, guiding her hand to his cheek, "Sense it…tremulous and tender."

Could this really be the same man that had been so violent, so merciless? As he told her to listen to the music of the night she could hear it; the air seemed alive, the moon bathing them both in a dim, frosty light. She felt him take her hand and turn her round to face him, drawing her towards him as he sang,

"Open up your mind…let your fantasies unwind…in this darkness that you know you cannot fight…"

She couldn't tare her eyes away as he led, achingly slowly it seemed, back towards the bed. Christine felt a fire start in her stomach, and rise up through her throat as she sang,

"In my mind I've already imagined our bodies entwining…defenceless then silence…"

She felt herself blush, blood rushing to her face as she sang the words that he had written; the words that had spoken the truth.

"Our games of make believe are at an end." He sat down on the bed, gesturing for her to take her place next to him. She sat, unable to stop herself from twisting her body round to face him.

"What sweet seduction lies before us?" His voice sent shivers through her body, whilst he raised his hands to her face, sweeping back her hair before letting his fingers trail down her arms. Just as she felt as if she would collapse into him, their voices, hushed and ragged with passion mingled into one as they sang;

"Past the point of no return, the final threshold…the bridge is crossed so stand and watch it burn…" Christine's voice trailed off, feeling how dangerously close she was to submission, to letting this obsession consume her. He looked at her, desire plainly written across his face. He couldn't hide it with a mask as he sang, his hands moving steadily towards her waist.

"We've past the point of no return."

Rushing through the narrow streets of Paris, he couldn't bring himself to contemplate the events that had just taken place. Everything which had been so certain before; the choices they had both made seemed doubtful as he thought of what had passed. The streets were empty so it was safe for him to walk in the fragile light of morning, unafraid of being recognised. However it was not until he had descended once more down the slimy spiral staircase, to the place that had remained untouched by the flames that he could feel secure; safe in the knowledge that no-one would find him here; no-one would disturb him.

As he sat down at the organ he faltered, exhausted, knocking the sheets of music so that they tumbled to the floor. It was unthinkable, unimaginable what had passed between him and Christine and yet he could not forget…too vivid it was in his mind. So recent was the feeling of having her close that he could still smell the feint traces of her perfume on his skin. It made him shudder to have her still so attached to him…still so much a part of him that an uncontrollable growl of fury passed his lips, and echoed about the cavern. How could he have left her when she was so close to submission? How could he spare her when she was so willing to give?

Christine could not sleep after her angel had left her, sitting on the bed. She had let him caress her…she had guided his hand…she had offered up her lips to his and yet he had not kissed her. On opening her eyes she saw that he had frozen, and his eyes had glazed with tears. He had drawn back cautiously, his face full of pitiful pain before leaving; leaving Christine alone to contemplate what had happened.

She had meant to call to Raoul but the words had never come. She had intended to protest, but her mouth would not form the words. Instead of resisting she had succumbed to his seduction, following his every lead…every wordless command. It was as if nothing vile had passed between them; it was as if he had never tried to murder the man she loved, as if he had never intended to take her prisoner against her will. She had been so close and she could sing once more; the notes of their song still clinging to the air about her.

What would Raoul think of her? What had become of the girl he had loved? She loved Raoul still, unfathomably, but how long could she keep up this charade? She didn't want to lie; to herself, to Raoul or her angel…her angel. As she lay, nauseating guilt swam through her stomach. She thought of the way that Raoul had begged to let him sacrifice his own life, rather than see her trapped with the Phantom. Yet this was the second time that she had offered herself to the Phantom…and the second time that, for her own sake, he had let her go.


	4. Chapter 4

In total, Raoul and Christine spent a month away from Paris. His parent's were delighted that they were to be married; they had, after all, been childhood sweethearts. After spending so much time in the country Christine quickly realised that this is what her life with Raoul would be, peaceful and harmonious with nothing sinister to trouble her mind. She would be well loved, not just by Raoul, but by the servants and his parent's too. As the carriage speed past the rippling valleys Christine felt content, safe in the knowledge that with Raoul she would always have a home. He would always take care of her.

"I think they approve," Raoul chuckled, moving from his side of the carriage to hers. She smiled, looking radiant after her time in the country; she wasn't as pale and slender as she had been, and the soft peach gown she was wearing showed off her darker complexion.

"Christine you are so beautiful, sometimes I wonder what I ever did to deserve you. You look so much better than you did."

"I feel it," she yawned, stretching out and resting her head on Raoul's shoulder. "Raoul, your parent's make me feel so welcome."

"They look on you as daughter, Little Lottie…"He paused, raising her hand to his lips and kissing it before continuing, "And they look forward to the day, just as I do, when that may become official."

She blushed, as she always did when she was close to him; recoiling and becoming coy. He turned her face towards his and kissed her gently, but she pulled away too quickly, turning scarlet.

"So shy, Little Lottie?" he mused, squeezing her hand before moving to his side of the carriage. She laughed, but her smile disappeared rapidly as, on the horizon, she could make out the silhouetted shapes of the graveyard; black crosses and angels against the dying sky. She shuddered, half holding her breath as they passed, remembering the times she had spent so lost and helpless…

"Help me say goodbye," she whispered. He smiled to her and she smiled back, concealing beneath the feeling that she had left behind in Paris. As the city approached Christine leant back against the panelled door and closed her eyes, the images returning to her. She had been away forever it had seemed, and the dreams had left her. But now, as she felt the stabbing in her heart returning she knew that she would never be able to sleep in Paris as long as she was near him. As long as she knew he was there she would be enslaved…and she wanted to be free. She longed to be free.

"I must end this," she thought to herself, glancing at Raoul across the carriage. "I must end this for good"

Help me say goodbye.

Raoul knew, as people who truly love, that something was different, something inside her had changed. Again and again the words niggled in the back of his mind and yet he tried to ignore it, refusing to accept the true cause of such a transformation in Christine. Nothing on earth could make Christine not eat, not sleep, become irrational and whimsical…except one man.

He had thought it all over; that they had left their problems far behind them when he had spirited her away to the Chateau. Yet now they way back and he could see through the mask she was wearing. Something inside her was changing. He saw it more each day, as he watched her go through the motions but not really living; not really being there. Ever since she had returned to the Opera Populaire things had got worse. She had seen him, he had spoken to her and now she was spiralling out of control and into the darkness.

"Are we to be forever haunted?" he shouted at the sky, unable to remain quiet any longer. He watched Christine turn and look up to him, standing on the balcony, observing her walk. Her smile seemed to suggest that she hadn't heard him but her eyes, so full of melancholy, told a different story. He tried to kiss her, and now she pulled away, more reluctant than she had ever been. Her smiles were all warmth but her eyes were so cold; forever looking just past him…searching for something else.

How had he bewitched his Little Lottie all over again; she had told him that he had told her to leave and she believed him. What was it that drew her to him; this cold, ruthless monster? How was it that she saw something in him that no-one else could? If she wasn't happy now, why hadn't she chosen him?

"This is ridiculous!" Raoul cursed himself for doubting his precious Christine. She was innocent, so naïve; she couldn't possibly understand such things. She told him that she did not think of the Phantom consciously, that she didn't purposefully set out to go to him and he believed her…and yet, constantly, at the back of it all there was doubt. He had been there on the opening night of Don Juan. He had seen it acted out on stage for the entire world to see. He had touched her and she had responded. They had sung together, their voices unable to disguise the fires that lie beneath. He had been so dominant…he had commanded and Christine had obeyed. In her eyes Raoul had seen the desire; in her voice he had heard the longing. Through the tears that sprung to his eyes he had realised, just as he did now that it was not just the Phantom that was infatuated…it was not just he who was obsessed…

For days Christine had been in turmoil, unable to tell Raoul the truth yet longing to be honest. But if I can't be honest with Raoul, at least I can be honest with him…my angel. Christine sat at her desk, watching the black ink loop across the page as the words spilt out as if she were not writing them. After she head finished, and had dusted the damp ink with powder she sat back to read the note.

"Please do not attempt to contact me. I can never see you again. Raoul knows nothing of that night; I do this for myself and myself alone. I cannot live in your shadow any longer. Please, if you love me as you say you do, you will respect my wishes.

Yours truly,

Christine"

She rang the bell and gave instructions, but as the footman turned to leave her stomach lurched. Feeling dizzy she sat back down, watching from the window as the messenger set off with her note. She had done the right thing. For the first time in a long time, she could be sure that she had done the right thing. No more nightmares, she thought to herself; no more lies. She would love Raoul and honour him, as any good wife should. She could never indulge her fantasies with her angel again. She would never be able to sing; her voice was something which had to be lost with her angel of music. But it was a sacrifice she _had _to make. She couldn't loose her mind as well as her soul.


	5. Chapter 5

The water made shapes dance across the cavern as he sat, note in hand, at the organ. He had been shocked to receive a note from Christine as, after he had learnt that she had fled to the country, he had thought that he had lost her for a second time. If he had, he thought to himself before reading the note, he only had himself to blame. Why did he lack the courage to execute the final stages of his plans? He would look at her…so much admiration in her eyes and he would stumble…he could not betray her so entirely. He could not allow her to betray her true self; the Christine that feared him and lead her to Raoul. He could push her; that was true enough. He could make her forget herself completely…but that would destroy the very thing that he so loved. He had to let her live…she didn't deserve to be tainted by such darkness. He had to let her go.

Looking up from the letter, his eyes surveyed the room, which he had quickly repaired after the night of the disaster. Everything was in its place…papers, candles, drapes all correct. And for the first time in months he smiled; and as he read the letter for a second time this smile turned into a deep throated laugh.

She had not told Raoul…she did this for herself and herself alone. Christine felt guilty for what had happened which could only mean…could he dare?

"If you love me as you say you do," the letter read. She had remembered his love for her and, in the name of this love, had begged him to stay away. She was no longer afraid of him; of his action…but her own…

Not allowing himself to be swept along by the unwritten messages in her note, he calmed himself. She would never leave Raoul, he knew this. She would never join him here, he knew that too. But she could not keep away. After everything that had happened she was still drawn to her angel and his music.

"Wildly your mind beats against me, yet your soul obeys!"

Oh no, he thought, placing the note back into its envelope; I will not come to you again Christine…For it will be you who returns to me…your teacher.

All night Christine had waited; all night she had stayed awake waiting for her angel to take her; waiting for her phantom to come. But as she pulled her shawl more tightly around her, tucking her knees underneath her chin as she shifted on her perch in the window she sighed, the glass of the window chilling her skin. She had written to him telling him to stay away and yet she was waiting for him; watching him and willing him to return.

By the time that Christine could see the thin morning light piercing through the clouds she realised that he wasn't coming. He had done as she'd asked…for his love of her. He had stayed away as she had instructed. She couldn't believe that it would be this easy to rid her of him. All she had to do was to ask.

Christine started at the knock on her door, and Raoul entered, dressed as if he had never been to bed.

"What is it?" she asked, moving to light the oil lamp. As the dim light radiated around the room, Raoul's face was illuminated and Christine grasped her mouth in horror. There was blood…blood splattered across his face, and on his shirt, and over his hands. An unearthly sob escaped her lips as she collapsed on the floor, burying her head in her hands.

"I knew that you would be awake," Raoul's voice came as he paced about the room frantically. "I knew that you would be awake, waiting for him."

Christine raised her face to his, tears streaming down her cheeks as she gasped, "Oh Raoul…what have you done?"

"I kept telling myself that you would get better; that it was like a fever that was yet to break. Yet every day you grew more distant. I saw you pushing me away and I couldn't…I wouldn't let it happen. Do you hear me Christine?" He implored, crouching down and taking her hands in his. "I wouldn't loose you to a monster like him!"

She watched his face crumble as he struggled to remain composed; smearing blood with the tears as he brushed them away. He choked on the words as he said them, "I was so angry Christine, so angry and afraid…"

He paused, noticing for the first time that she was crying; uncontrollable sobs of pain. She was paralysed; rooted to the spot until she knew what had happened. What had Raoul done?

"What's this?" Raoul snapped, twisting Christine round to face him. She yelped in pain as he pinched her cheeks, forcing her to look him in the eyes. "Tears…tears for such a man? You weep for him still Christine? You love him still?"

"Raoul I…" she began, struggling to free herself from him. But he was on her at once, dragging her to her feet, forcing her to stand up though she shook with despair.

"What have you done?" she shrieked.

As if this brought him back to his senses, Raoul's face flooded with disbelief as he retreated, gazing at his hands as if they were not his own. Once…twice he shook his head and mumbled, half to himself, "What have I done? I am just like him now…just like him!"

Seized by panic Christine charged forward and Raoul, who caught her in his arms, struggled to remain still as she thrashed against him, screaming violently, "What have you done to him Raoul? What have you done?"


	6. Chapter 6

It was cold…so cold where he was now; his lungs were tight as he gasped for breath. Struggling to pull himself out of the water, he yelped at the pain…the excruciating pain that started in his stomach and seized his entire body as he dragged himself over the rocks. He was soaked and out of the corner of his eye he could make out his mask, silently bobbing on the surface of the water.

He tried to lie back but the pain was too much and, as his head swam, he noticed for the first time that his shirt was soaked in crimson blood. Desperately he clutched his side where the pain was most acute, failing miserably to stand.

Eventually he mustered enough power to stagger, almost as if he were drunk, to the bed before hurling himself down upon it; cursing the pain as he did so. His head span as he tried to focus on his surroundings, the candlelight and watery reflections distorting the images in his mind. He struggled to remember what had happened; he must have blacked out from the pain. Had he been sitting when Raoul had so unexpectedly burst in, shouting, and crying before pulling him down into the water? They had struggled…he had fought; he remembered that much. Raoul had dropped the blade and they had both rushed to find it in the shallows. But Raoul had got there first and now he remembered the searing burst of pain in his side before he had passed, falling back, the water rising up to meet him.

He coughed violently, trembling as he attempted to remain conscious. He felt so cold….so cold as he shivered, wrapping the sheets about him. The whole cavern had become great pools of colour as he was no longer able to differentiate a curtain from a candelabrum. He thought he saw a great light, like the sun before him, burning his flesh.

"No….no!" he cried, fighting the invisible enemy; fighting Raoul still. But suddenly the pain became too much and his whole body became heavy and numb. Hardly able to breathe he laid still, this perfect world of solitude he had created crashing down around him. He tried to shield his eyes from the light, but he was no longer master of his body; it was too seized with his hurt. His blood had run cold and his eyes were clouding over. Darkness was falling even though he knew it was day.

Before this darkness eclipsed him; before the night time came he managed to turn his head away from the light; to face the darkness of his underground cavern once more. But there was light here too…the tiniest of lights it seemed, hovering in the distant; gradually drawing nearer and nearer. It was soft and gentle as it approached; not like the harsh light he had turned away from. And, just as his eyes were closing; just as he was to slip away he thought he saw the face of angel; her hair a halo of light; approach him, and gather him into her arms.

"Angel my soul was weak, forgive me." A voice…that sweet voice called and echoed through his mind; drawing him back from his dreams. He wanted to stay here forever; so warm and so peaceful. This must be heaven his mind told him, as he felt himself descend once more into his body. With a start he became conscious, his eyes snapping open as he lifted his head.

"You mustn't try and move," the voice came again. "You must try and sleep."

After the initial dizziness had left him, and he was once again able to focus on his surroundings he found that Christine was beside him, watching him intently as he struggled for breath. Seeing the confusion in his face, she lowered her voice to a whisper before explaining, "You've lost a lot of blood, that's why you feel so light headed. You must try and rest now."

He could not be like this he reasoned, propping himself up on the bed despite Christine's protests; he would not allow her to see him so weak…so vulnerable. But he winced and, on looking down he saw that he was no longer wearing the blood stained shirt, and his wound had been cleaned and dressed. He looked at Christine, seeing now that her dress and sleeves were smeared with blood; the jug and bowl of water at her side; and he realised that it was not an angel he had seen coming towards him…it had been Christine.

Quickly he surveyed the room, worried for a moment that Raoul would be there. But he found that he was not, and laid back on the pillows in his discomfort. Then the truth hit him; Christine had come here alone. She had found her way in the cold light of morning back to him. She had lifted him and undressed him. She had gathered him into her arms and tended to his wound. She had taken care of him.

She saw the truth register in his face and blushed, brushing aside the hair that had fallen in front of her eyes before beginning, very quietly, "Raoul came to me and told me what he had done and I couldn't bare it…I couldn't bare to think that he had done that to you because of me. I told him that I had to go, that I had to leave him to see you and he let me…I don't think he could have stopped me…"She paused, seeing the way he watched before she continued, her voice wavering with emotion, "And I found the boat and came here. I saw you as I got nearer and I was afraid…" Unable to contain herself any longer she burst into to tears, twisting the fabric of the dressing she was holding in her hands. "I was so afraid I had lost you…there was blood everywhere and when I lifted you to me you were so cold…I thought I had lost you forever."

He reached out to her, tenderly caressing her cheek. She felt that his hands were once again warm against her flesh and she nuzzled it, relishing the signs of life within. Without thinking, she let his hand slip down her cheek and over her mouth; and she kissed it gently again and again as if she would never stop. Tantalised he watched the way her tears streaked her cheeks as she kissed first his palm, and next his wrist; her mouth moist and warm.

Carefully he moved towards her, his pain subsidiary to the delight of such a moment. She met his eyes as he edged closer, softly caressing first her cheek, then her neck; and then finally her back as he pulled her into him.

As their lips met and their tongues fused Christine felt herself slipping endlessly into her angel's arms. He was unmasked but she did not care as he consumed her piece by piece. She collapsed into him as he kissed her and as she kissed him she knew….she knew at last that this was where her soul chose to be; and she gasped at the pleasure of it.


	7. Chapter 7

Down here there was no night and day; down here all time was infinite. Christine had no way of telling how long she had been asleep when she eventually awoke; her eyes red and swollen from the tears she had cried. As she shifted slightly, her body numb from lying so long she noticed for the first time the weight against her side.

On turning around Christine saw her angel, curled upon his side, his back towards her. A sudden wave of disappointment hit her as she realised that he hadn't been holding her like she so longed that he do. He had turned away from her; out of respect or of fear she could not make out. He looked so at peace as he slept. Propping herself up onto her side, Christine watched him; watched over him as he slept on. She closed her eyes and thought to herself, "I could lie like this forever. I could be like this forever…with him."

As if she had spoken aloud, the Phantom awoke, and he started at the sight of her. As he had slept so deeply he had forgotten that she was here, lying next to him and it startled him to see her; her face bent towards him, her curls tumbling about her face.

Neither spoke…for what was there to say? It seemed that they had no need for words when each was so consumed in silent thought. It pained him to see her, so beautiful in the watery light, and to know that they could not be like this forever. That she would not choose him. She had been frightened of a loss that she couldn't bare; he had been so long a part of her. And it was _that _which had made her come to him, and that which kept her here. She didn't love him; the words reverberating through his body and piercing his heart. She _couldn't _love him.

Angry at the indulgent fantasy he had partaken in he sat up, the pain in his side noticeably diminished. It was he who broke the eerie silence, staggering to his feet and sweeping back his hair.

"I think you should go Christine. It's not good that you are here." He glanced at her; her eyes weary and confused. She pushed the black lace curtain aside and approached him; her face drawn with sorrow.

"I can't leave you now. Not now…" She reached out to take his hand but her fell back out of her reach. She smiled wistfully before continuing, "Don't make me go."

He sighed, still light headed from the loss of so much blood, and his voice became bitter as he asked, "You seem to have forgotten about Raoul…your fiancé?"

As always her angel spoke the truth, she had forgotten about Raoul and the terrible thing that he had done. How long had she lain with the Phantom? Where was Raoul now? As so often happened, Christine's mind became confused, and she shook her head to rid herself of it. As if sensing her trouble he took her hand and petted it gently, his slightest touch making her whole body hum.

"Twisted every way what answer can I give?" she sung; her throat aching and stiff with the tune. "Am I to risk my soul to win the chance to live?"

"Enough!" the Phantom bellowed, his voice echoing off of the walls. This would not continue he told himself…he could not endure this torture. He saw the love and fear in her gaze and it him wretched. She had saved him and he was thankful but he would not become a poppet for his love for her. He refused to let himself be governed by his heart, when his soul was eternally bound.

"You must leave now and never return! No more games Christine, for I have tired of them. I cannot be so torn in two, and neither, I think, can you. You will go to Raoul and forgive him…god knows he was provoked. You will return to him and be his bride. You were right; you can no longer live in my shadow. You are not like me Christine, a creature of the dark. You need the sunlight and that is something I can never give. I will no longer torment you and I _refuse_ to torment myself. It's over now. It's done."

Christine had started to shake, a little more each moment as his speech progressed. She saw the sense in his words and convinced herself that he was right. As she gathered her things to her, afraid to look back at the man she was leaving, she told herself that it was for the best. As she walked down the grand staircase and out into the blinding light of day she told herself that she was to forgive Raoul; she was to forgive him and marry him and make him as happy as he deserved to be. But something behind the reason was screaming; was beating and thrashing to be heard in the back of her mind. As her feet took her further away from the Phantom and ever closer to the life that lay before her, the voice grew louder until it was ringing in her ears. But this time reason would win. This time her mind would triumph over her heart.

All night Raoul had waited for his Christine to return. As he sat now, watching his servants bustle around him, making sure that they didn't see the blood stained clothes that were piled on his bed; his mind was full of the pictures of the night before. He had seen in her eyes an unimaginable pain and that nothing he could have said would have prevented her from going to him…to that beast.

But even now, as Raoul's hatred for that man him ran so deep, he found his heart full of despair. If he was alive still, as he prayed that he was, he had surely driven her into his arms for good. For how could she now choose between two men whose flaws were so similar? If he was alive still, then the Phantom would have won.

Raoul held his breathe as Christine entered, dismissing the servants swiftly as he rose to his feet. He saw that she had been crying, he presumed that she hadn't got much sleep; he saw the way her gown too was stained with blood and, dizzy with anticipation, he approached her.

Christine said nothing at first, holding Raoul tightly to her as he shivered with the fear of loosing her. I have to be strong for him she told herself, caressing his hair gently to soothe him. Eventually he was calm enough to splutter, "Oh Christine, I don't know what I've done. You can't understand what this has been like for me. I've watched him take possession of my Little Lottie and I couldn't loose you. I never meant to do anything…I just meant to confront him. But when I saw him…when I saw him at that organ…He turned around and smiled, and I knew then that he was mocking me. He was laughing at me because he had won…and he always would as long as he was there, behind everything."

Slowly she drew away, watching Raoul as his face contorted with the guilt at what he had done. He looked so tired; exhausted by all that he had seen and struggled to fight against. For the first time Christine saw just how much he had aged over the past months; no longer were there any familiar traces of the boy that she had known. She went to speak but he interrupted her, holding her firm, forcing her to listen.

"Oh Lottie you must believe when I say that no matter how much I despised him; no matter how much I wanted him dead I would have never killed him…I'm not a murderer." It was now that Raoul broke down, the tears streaming down his cheeks as he fell, sobbing, to the floor.

"If you leave me I shall understand…I can't make you stay." He looked up at her, and cried, "Oh Lottie, you must love me…I can't bear to be without you after all that has happened. Forgive me Lottie…please forgive me!"

Christine swallowed hard before stooping to pull Raoul to his feet. How could she do what she had to? How could she ignore the protests within? Forever he would be with her; forever he would haunt her dreams. She would see his face in every mirror she looked in, in every dancing flame. In every floating tune she would hear his voice calling her to come back to him. But he had to be dead to her now…and her love must die with him.

Gently, she cupped Raoul's face, kissing his damp mouth softly before whispering, "He's dead Raoul. He's dead." She kissed him again, only longer, suppressing the urge to choke on the lie she had just told. He couldn't be alive to them; they would never forget if he was. For their love to survive she would have to condemn her angel to hell.

"He's dead Raoul…its over. I want to marry you. Say you'll marry me Raoul? Say you'll make me your wife?"


	8. Chapter 8

Days quickly turned into months and it was not long until the day that Christine had so longed for yet feared had arrived. It was a blustery day in October when Christine woke early. The servants were already in her rooms, pulling back curtains and bringing in breakfast. As she rose to her feet and walked over to the table where she always dinned, she looked out of the window to see what the weather was like. She was disappointed to find no trace of sunlight about the clouds just grey; dark, ominous clouds which rolled overhead; the wind blasting the skeletal remains of the leaves on the trees.

This was not how she had imagined this day would be, she conceded, raising her cup to her lips. Even when she was a little girl she some how knew that her life would take her here; that she would marry Raoul. But in her fancies she had seen a large church on a bright spring morning, flowers cascading over the pews. Raoul would be at the end of the aisle and he would turn and smile at her. The church would be full of family and friends and there, beside her, would be her father. Her father, who she had loved and adored, would lead her into the arms of the man that she would marry. He would kiss her goodbye; he would play the violin as they said their vows. All of a sudden it occurred to her that no-one would be there to hold her hand as she walked out of childhood and into womanhood. This was something that she would have to do alone.

It seemed as if the morning would last forever Christine thought to herself as she climbed into the tub; feeling the warm water cascade down her back as her maid wet her hair. She loved the feel of water next to her skin, so peaceful and so calming; its warmth seemed to always soothe and calm her. The lavender and camomile oils which they added made her slip back under the surface; her eyes closing as the water rose up to meet her.

When she eventually got out, wrapping the soft linen about her, she noticed that one of the maids seemed to be hovering anxiously in the doorway. Laughing to herself quietly Christine beckoned for the maid to approach.

"If you please Miss, the flowers have arrived."

Christine was surprised to hear this; she had thought that Raoul had left explicit instructions that all flowers were to be delivered directly to the church. She shrugged, dismissing the maid with a wave of the hand and the words "Bring them in."

She heard the maid close the door behind her as she left and, tying the cord of her dress around her waist she smiled at what the day promised; before turning round to inspect what had been laid on her dressing tables.

Christine shrieked in horror at the sight that met her, stumbling with shock at the foot of the bed. Rubbing her eyes in disbelief she cautiously approached the table, her eyes fixed on the flower which lay there…for there was only one. A single red rose, tied around the stem; a black ribbon. There was also a note, sealed in the same way as so many previous ones had been. Carefully she broke the wax seal, despairing at the familiar strokes of ink that formed letters on the page. She read it just once. In a moment of blind panic she rushed to the mantelpiece and threw it onto the glowing fire. As the flames surrounded it, the words could still be seen, as they burnt in the flames;

"Do not fear for your Angel of Music…he burns in hell so that you may walk in the sunlight. I will always think of you Christine. I will always love you."


	9. Chapter 9

The church was virtually empty when Christine arrived, as she glanced nervously about her. Through her veil she could make out a few familiar faces from the opera house and, at the very end, seated close to where Raoul was standing, she could see Madame Giry and Meg; their faces full of anticipation as they turned around to face her.

All eyes were on her as she slowly proceeded down the aisle; even Raoul had turned around to watch; his eyes so full of love. Fear seized her heart as she shuffled forever closer, no-one at her side to guide her. All were watching as she walked; commenting on the beauty of the wedding dress that had taken weeks to design. Yet it was not white, as the fashion was, she couldn't bring herself to wear that colour; instead it was an off cream, which shifted to gold as she walked. The lace that covered the bodice and clung tightly to her waist was a hundred years old at least, and had been imported especially from Italy. She looked beautiful, and she knew it, as she had known when she had first seen herself in the mirror that morning, astounded by own reflection. As she passed the people they sighed, commenting on what a beautiful couple her and Raoul would make…Yet they couldn't see the piece of ribbon that she had carefully laced around her wrist, obstructed from prying eyes. As she walked a strand became lose and she began to wrap her little finger about it nervously. For some reason the ribbon brought her great comfort, as she felt it slip between her fingers. She could have never worn the flower...that would have drawn too much attention.

As she stood at the altar and Raoul slipped her hand in hers she flinched, yelping at the sudden pain that shot through her finger tip. With concern he examined her hand and the tiny pin prick of blood that had formed and now rolled off her finger, splattering on her gown. Only Christine knew that one of the pricks from the rose must have been caught on the ribbon, and had caused her to bleed. Yet still the vows were said, and still the deed was down. And as Raoul lifted the veil to bring her close to kiss her; to seal their marriage vows in front of the entire world, he failed to see that Christine had been quietly crying to herself throughout. She felt his mouth against hers and smiled at the thought that they were finally together; they were finally husband and wife…

Yet as he led her down the aisle, the guests offering cheers of congratulations and throwing petals up into the air, Christine looked over her shoulder and met the eyes of Meg and her mother, her eyes searching the alcoves before looking up to the cloisters. It was unmistakeable, this feeling that closed in on her from all sides. She had felt it since she had entered the church, and all through the ceremony, and as Raoul kissed her she had felt it more than ever. Madame Giry lifted her eyes and saw him, cowering in the shadows, where Christine could not see. But Christine knew he had been their watching over her. She had known that he would be there, watching it all.

The afternoon was a whirlwind of dancing and romance. It seemed to Christine that she had been pulled on every side, endless questions about what was going to happen next; where were they going to live. Were they going to leave Paris? Was she to retire from public life and give up singing for good? Christine was gracious and courteous; she was after all a Countess. Raoul had been constantly at her side but had said very little to her; in addressing her it would often be so that the whole room could hear. Very soon Christine felt nauseous, having eaten too much fine food and drunk a little too much champagne. In a brief moment when attention was diverted away from her and onto the exquisite wedding cake, Christine stole out of the ballroom and into one of the adjoining passages, half hiding herself away in one of the windows. The sun was struggling to come out; feint traces of light penetrating the grey, but still the black clouds quilted the sky; the promise of rain lying not far behind.

Christine was startled at a hand on her shoulder and, on turning round, was squeezed affectionately by Meg who chortled, "Oh Christine you look so beautiful; and so happy! I'm so happy for you!"

Christine smiled, comforted some what by the chatter of her oldest friend. But this smile quickly evaporated when she saw Madame Giry approach her and take her hand. She had no reason to fear her; she had, after all, saved her from a life of poverty and taken her to the opera house. But something about the way she looked her, searching her face for something that remained unsaid made Christine feel uneasy, and she flinched slightly at such signs of affection.

"You did well my dear. You have made me proud." Madame Giry petted the back of her hand before dropping it.

"You really think so?" Christine implored, laughing a little hysterically before continuing, "I was sure that I had ruined everything when I had hurt my hand, and look…" She said holding out the skirt of her dress and indicating the drop of blood. "I have ruined my dress, for it shall never come out!"

Suddenly, Madame Giry reached out and grabbed Christine's hand, twisting it slightly so that fabric of her shawl slide back up her arm. She saw the black ribbon that had been knotted, with such care, around her wrist. Her eyes shot up to Christine, who jumped back as if Madame Giry had burnt her.

The two women could say nothing as Raoul retreated from the ballroom and headed to where they were standing. Meg, who looked at Christine with wide eyed surprise said nothing and Raoul, who was flushed from the heat of the room, panted, "Well, Little Lottie, I have made your excuses to our guests and told them that you have gone to rest…"He smiled to himself, leaning forward to kiss Christine's cheek and whisper, so that the other women couldn't hear, "For you shall need your rest for tonight."

Christine flushed crimson and Madame Giry, fully picking up on the innuendo shooed Raoul back and said, "You must go back to your guests then and leave Christine with me. Meg and I will take care of her. Do not worry," she insisted, seeing the look of concern grow on his face, "She will be quite looked after."

At this Raoul smiled and, pulling Christine towards her he said, "Until tonight then," before kissing her passionately. Madame Giry saw Christine's eyes close but her body pull away, as if she longed to be released. Swiftly, she took Christine by the hand and led her way, leaving Meg to scurry after.


	10. Chapter 10

Hey! Well I have been distracted by many other fanfics since I started uploading this so I apologise. If there are enough positive responses to this, and if there are enough people out there still reading and caring about this, I shall continue to upload.

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"I thought I'd never get away!" Christine laughed, as Meg closed the door behind them. But after removing her veil she turned around to find that Meg was looking at her with disappointment; Madame Giry's eyes where harsh and cold. She saw that it was useless to lie, now that they had seen the ribbon which she now proceeded to untie.

To her surprise it was Meg that spoke first, rushing towards and taking Christine's hands in her own. "Christine what were you thinking? What if somebody saw?"

"No-one saw…" Christine trailed off, letting the ribbon drop onto her dressing table. "Well no-one but you." She saw Madame Giry still standing by the door and she began, her voice full of pleading as she sang;

"Father once spoke of an Angel, and I still dream he appears. Now as I sing I can't sense him, yet I know he hears. Deep in my mind he calls me softly; somewhere inside hiding. Some how I know he'll never leave me…" Her voice wavered as the tune changed, "And he'll always be there singing songs in my head. I know that he's there…singing songs in my head."

"You are Raoul's wife now my child," Madame Giry began, speaking for the first time since they had entered the room. "You can't play these games now that you are married. You have a duty to honour your husband…" She stepped closer to Christine, her voice softening a little before continuing, "Don't worry my dear…he understands"

"I lied to Roaul…I told Raoul that he was dead? Was that wrong of me Madame Giry?" her voice filling with doubt. "Was it wrong to lie to him?"

"Your lies saved him, and in turn those lies will redeem you. If Raoul knew he was alive he would never be happy…his love and life would be full of doubt." She paused as she heard chatter pass outside the door and she lowered her voice to whisper as she said, "He would wait for you to leave him."

"I would never do that…I couldn't. I love Raoul and I want to make him happy…I just can't forget. Something inside makes me remember…"

"No-more of this," she remarked impatiently, nodding to Meg to fetch the bottle of champagne and the glasses. "You must forget, especially tonight. For tonight you will become a wife, in body as well as word."

Madame Giry was right, up until now Christine had pushed to the back of her mind the events of her wedding night. She had never really felt a physical pull towards Raoul; it was always emotional and nostalgic. Sometimes she felt awkward when he kissed her and she would pull away, unsure of what she should be doing or how she should act. She had never been exposed to sex in anyway she would recognise; to her it was a foreign and rather abstract concept. She understood it was her duty and she should be eager and excited; but some innate fear inside her prevented her from this. When she kissed Raoul it was to express love, but never passion. How was she to act when he approached her; what was she expected to do?

Madame Giry smiled at her naive uncertainty. With a mothering gaze she explained to Christine, "Raoul will be just as nervous as you. He is a loving man, he loves you a great deal Christine, and so will prove a tender lover. He will not hurt you. He will not expect experience, so you have nothing to fear. If you love Raoul as much as he loves you it will be alright…perhaps even beautiful. But you shouldn't feel afraid," she chided, smoothing Christine's hair away from her face, "The greatest form of love in the world is to give your body to another."


	11. Chapter 11

The maid's giggled with the excitement that Christine was supposed to be feeling as they brushed her hair softly, fiddling with her nightgown and spraying her with perfume. She was in Raoul's bedroom now, not the rooms that she had inhabited before; and it was strange as for the first time she realised that she had never seen it before. It was very much like hers, only masculine. She expected it had been more so before they had married; before her things were placed in with his. Yet in here they seemed to intrude on what was his; her dressing table, not quite matching his nightstand.

Once the candles were lit and the curtains drawn Christine was left alone, to nervously pace the length of the room. The words of Madame Giry came back to her, as she bent to stoke the fire that hissed silently behind the grate. Raoul loved her and would not hurt her; he would care for her always. Yet as she thought of what would be her stomach flipped…how could she commit this act of passion when she felt so numb?

She started when she heard the door open, jumping to her feet as Raoul entered. He remained at a distance, his eyes taking in the woman that was now his wife. She looked so beautiful standing above the fire, the shadows dancing on her face, that he could hardly believe that they were here…at last they would be together.

"Have all the guests gone?" Christine began, looking down at the fire as she felt him approach.

"All except Meg and Madame Giry. It was too late to call for the carriage so I told them to stay," his voice came, as she felt how close he was to her. Silently he placed a hand on her shoulder, turning her face around to his. He studied her eyes, smiling at her confused expression before sighing, "Little Lottie let her mind wander…" He kissed her mouth lightly before whispering, "Don't be afraid Little Lottie…I would never harm you. I love you more than life itself. Don't fear me…" His voice came again before he kissed her earlobe.

Christine did not feel ready, yet she knew her time had come. She couldn't remain a child forever. She saw Raoul moving to undress but she yelped, moving over to the candles before saying, "Please can we put out the lights. I don't feel I can….Please?"

With a look of mischief Raoul blew out the candles, and so did Christine; so that now the room was illuminated by just the dying embers of the fire. For some reason, although she knew that he could not see her, she turned away before undressing, laying her clothes carefully on the back of her chair, before slipping beneath the sheets. She lay on her side, her hand raised to her mouth as she nervously bit her fingers; feeling the bed move as her husband climbed in beside her.

She swallowed hard when she felt is bare flesh press up against her own, knowing that soon she would have to turn round, and kiss him, and let him take her and make her his wife.

It was awkward and fumbled, and Christine froze as the feelings that were so new and strange engulfed her. Raoul gasped in pleasure as he moved against her but Christine was silent; her eyes closed tight against him; his face buried in her neck. Tears sprung to her eyes and rolled softly down her cheeks as she felt Raoul stiffen then lie, as if lifeless, upon her. Eventually he moved, sliding next to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close against his sweating body. She felt him kiss her hair and she heard him say that he loved her…and eventually she heard him sigh and fall asleep, his grip loosening around her.

Slowly, when she was sure that he was asleep she stood up, her lower body aching and sore. Unable to bear the feeling of his flesh against her own she dressed quickly, rubbing her skin frantically, and tying back her hair. She glanced at the shape of the man in the bed, his golden hair falling about his face. As the last of the fire died, the red light turning into opaque night, Christine fumbled with the drawers of her dresser to find the rose which she had concealed there. And, at that moment when night is too late to be morning Christine pressed the rose against her face, her nostrils filling with its sweet scent; and cried.


	12. Chapter 12

His fingers pounded the keys of the organ again and again, playing the same frantic notes from "Don Juan" over and over. The notes seemed to collide with each other in the air, piercing the usually calm serenity of this place. The cavern was full of music, yet still he played own, his tumbling notes failing to block out what he had seen today.

My god, why had he gone there? Why did he have to see her? He knew all the while he was dressing, and all the time he was following the strange, intertwining sewer system to the vaults of the church that this was the wrong thing to do. For, if he saw her with him; walking towards him to become _his _wife…that that would be the last time that he would see her. That his lasting memory would be of her marrying and starting a new life, which did not include him.

He stopped playing, resting his head in his hands and cursing himself for having been so weak. He had watched the guests arrive; he had seen Madame Giry and Meg take their places next to Raoul. Then he had seen her, from his hiding place amongst the pillars he had seen her enter the church, and his heart had bleed for such beauty. Although he could not see her face under the veil, he could picture it before him; so emblazoned it was in his mind. She had whispered her vows but he had still heard her, her voice ripping pathways through his soul. Until that moment he hadn't believed that she would do it; until the priest pronounced them man and wife he had not believed that she could.

Through his tears he had struggled to watch Raoul kiss her, and yet he had heard the voices cheer. The veil was lifted and he saw her, his angel…no longer a child yet still so afraid. Unable to watch yet not able to turn away he watched as Raoul lead her away; take her away from the darkness she had known and into a new life with him.

And yet, he was sure that as they walked away Christine had looked back; her eyes searching for him. It was probably all in his mind and yet, he could have sworn Christine had looked at him, looked straight at him before continuing, arm and arm with Raoul, out of the church.

This was madness, he told himself, rising from the organ and grabbing his head in his rage. His mind flooded with images that he did not wish to see. Christine had a duty to perform this night. Right now Raoul had her in his arms, and his mind pushed on further to what he knew would happen next. It couldn't be avoided, he knew that it would be so, and yet he detested the very idea of it. The thought that he was kissing her; that he was touching her; the thought that his skin would be pressed against hers made him sick.

But worse still…what if she enjoyed it? What if she recognised her own lust, and sought to satisfy his? He could see it now, unable to do otherwise; her pleading, her moaning, her begging and imploring; her writhing with pleasure at his touch.

He screamed at the thoughts, rushing to the walls and scrapping his head along it to rid himself of such pictures. His tears stung his cheeks, as he thrashed backwards onto the bed, growling in agony…sobbing deep into the night.


	13. Chapter 13

Raoul had awoken, stretching across the bed and then panicking, worrying why Christine was not beside him. On sitting up he smiled to see her sitting at the table, already dressed and in the process of sweeping back her hair.

"Up so early, Little Lottie?" Raoul yawned, as Christine turned to face him.

"You know I'm always up this early. I've never been one to sleep in."

"I suppose I will notice that more now…now that we share a bed." He smiled knowingly, his face filling with a new form of desire that Christine had never read in his features before. She smiled her countenance as demure as ever, as she fastened a clasp in her hair and stood up.

Raoul rose to his feet and Christine gasped in astonishment, forgetting almost entirely that he was naked. She blushed, averting her gaze. She heard Raoul laugh as he dressed quickly and rush over, nearly knocking her backwards with the force of his embrace.

"You shouldn't turn away Christine. I am your husband now. I have shared all that I am with you, and so have you. There is no need to be coy…you no longer need to play the virgin with me."

Christine was shocked by his brashness; this was a side of Raoul she had never seen before. It made her feel uncomfortable and, after she had let him kiss her, she pulled away.

"I was thinking of spending some more time with Meg and Madame Giry today, before they leave." She forced a smile before continuing, "To say goodbye I suppose. Is that alright?"

"Of course it is my darling; you don't have to ask my permission. I may be your husband but I do not own you. You may do as you please."

Christine was pleased to leave the room, but she could feel the way they eyes of the house were turned on her as she walked through the corridors. They were all examining her posture, the way she walked, the way she held herself; all being scrutinized as if, all of sudden, she was expected to have changed.

To Christine's relief she found only Meg in the rooms where they had been staying and, as soon as the door was safely closed behind her, she feel to the ground and wept.

"Christine what is the matter? Are you unwell? I should call Raoul…he'll be so worried…"

"No…no please Meg, don't fetch Raoul. Don't leave me."

Meg sat on the floor, her concern for her friend written clearly in her face as she asked, "What is it Christine? Tell me what is wrong?"

"Does it make me a very bad wife to not want to sleep with my husband? Is it wrong to feel physically repulsed by the act?"

Before Meg could reply, Madame Giry entered and, seeing Christine crying, instructed Meg to leave.

"My dear," she began as soon as Meg had left and she had helped Christine to her feet and into a chair, "What is troubling you?"

"I did it…I did it because I had too…because I couldn't possibly do otherwise. He didn't hurt me, he was distant but he never hurt me…But I don't think I could do it again Madame Giry. I don't think I could let it happen again…"

"It is him isn't it? You cannot sleep with Raoul because he still plagues your thoughts. You claim that he is dead to you but it is plain that he is not. Tell me…" She began, pouring a glass of water and handing it to her, "This may be a rather impertinent thing to ask but it must be…did you think of him? When you were with Raoul were you thinking of him?"

Christine trembled as she drank, "No. I never did…I thought of nothing...I was blank and then I felt awful; as if I had been violated…as if I had done something terrible that didn't feel right or good. And then when it was over and Raoul was asleep I got up. I dressed and tried to rid myself of the feeling but I could not…and then I thought…"

She stopped, brushing back the tears as Madame Giry urged her to continue. "And then I thought of _him_…I thought of him and I cried…I cried as if my heart were breaking and I realised Madame Giry; I knew why it felt so awful to lie with Raoul…"

She paused, virtually unable to speak as the emotions swept through her. "I knew that I could not be like that with Raoul. And that there was only one man in the world I could ever lie with…I knew that I would never be able to bare being so with Raoul…You see, Madame Giry….I don't belong to him."


	14. Chapter 14

He had lain all night, trying to sleep yet his mind would not let him. All night, and now all day, he had lain motionless, the black curtain shutting him off from his pain. Yet he still he felt it, just as he could feel by the changing temperature that day had once again changed into night. Her voice echoed through his mind, as he tossed in his restlessness;

"Say you'll share with me one love…one lifetime…"

* * *

The wind howled as Christine made her away through the shady streets of Paris, pulling her cloak tightly around her. Madame Giry had said nothing. Meg had let her be. And, just after she was due to dine with Raoul; after she had dressed and the clock on the mantelpiece had chimed she had left; leaving out through one of the servant's passage ways…slipping out into the night.

* * *

It was no good…this would not do…he couldn't live like this. He pushed the curtain aside, stripping off his clothes which were stale with sweat and washing himself in the cool water. He removed his mask and washed his scars, pulling back his hair before replacing it; and changing into fresh clothes. He reached for the decanter of wine and poured, catching his reflection in one of the broken mirrors as he rose the glass to his lips. He looked so strong…how would anyone be able to see the broken spirit within? His voice was hoarse as he sang,

"Angel of music you denied me…turning from true beauty…"

* * *

As Christine drew ever closer to the Opera Populaire, her feet began to fail underneath her. With increasing frequency she stumbled on the cobbles; her heart pounding in her chest. How would she ever reach the opera house if her legs felt so heavy? She raised her eyes to the sky and knew she would never reach there before it rained.

* * *

"Turn your thoughts away from cold unfeeling light; and listen to the music of the night."

As he looked about the cavern he thought of the time when he had first made himself known to her; and brought her down here. He hadn't ever planned to seduce her, yet she had looked at him with such desire as he had touched her; pressing her body fully against him as the words of his song filled her ears. She had feinted and he had carried her…he had scooped her up in his arms and laid her in his bed; hardly daring to believe that she had welcomed his touch. He could have kissed her as she slept he thought, remembering the way her dress had seemed translucent in the candlelight.

"No!" he bellowed, breaking the eerie silence that filled the cavern. "She is another man's wife now!" The air seemed charged with electricity; the storm was about to break.

* * *

Just as Christine reached the square outside the Opera Populaire, the heavens opened and the rain, that had been threatening to fall for so long, came pouring down. There was little she could do to shield herself, the hood of her clock blown back by wind; the water falling down in great sheets all about her. As she rushed into the lobby through a break in the boards lightening split the sky; illuminating the grand staircase as she made her way up it. She was soaking wet as she squelched up the stairs, the wind rattling about the empty place, mocking the emptiness within.

* * *

The thunder boomed as he sat, gazing down at the endless reams of empty sheet music. Why was it that he couldn't write anymore? His muse had been lost to him for good and now he was doomed to never write another note. This made him angry yet again, as he kicked a candlestick that had toppled to the floor. He thought that in letting her go he would have set himself free; but now he was as trapped as ever. He could not write, no matter how much he willed inspiration to come. He could not forget his love no matter how far he pushed her away; and into the arms of another man. Raoul had touched her now in a way he could have only dreamed...and now he was condemned to live forever alone; with not even music in the night.

* * *

A sudden gust of wind blasted its way through the cavern, extinguishing every flickering candle; plunging the room into darkness. He cursed the wind as the thunder continued to growl overhead, fumbling for a match in the dark. He found one at last and lit a single candle; its fragile flame lighting only the tiniest of spaces.

It was now that he heard footsteps scrambling over the rocks; the stifled cries in the darkness. And, as he lifted the candle, its dim light illuminated Christine who stood before him; shaking with the cold…her hair soaked as it fell in wet ripples about her face, her cloak falling heavily to the floor.


End file.
